


Five Ways Luke and Noah Never Met (and one way they did)

by ithilien22



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-12
Updated: 2008-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithilien22/pseuds/ithilien22





	Five Ways Luke and Noah Never Met (and one way they did)

**one.**

Luke frowns slightly as he rushes through the halls of the student union. He can’t believe that despite all his good intentions, he’s going to be late to the first meeting of the year. That wasn’t exactly the great first impression he had in mind, he can’t help thinking. He glances down at his watch again and walks a little bit faster.

When he reaches the meeting room, he pauses for a moment, noticing a young man waiting beside it. Luke holds the door open for him, offering a smile and a friendly, “go ahead.” The boy just looks at him, then back down at his shoes. He doesn’t move towards the door. 

“You are here for the GLBTQA meeting, right?” Luke asks, letting the door swing back closed as he regards the boy in front of him.

The boy blushes. He still won’t meet Luke’s gaze. “That’s a lot of letters,” he murmurs softly.

Luke laughs, forgetting about his own stress for a moment. “I’m Luke,” he says, offering his hand, “president of the alphabet soup club.”

The boy smiles softly and shakes his hand. “Noah,” he replies.

“Well, don’t worry, we’re not going to make you wear a name tag stating which letter you specifically represent,” Luke assures him, keeping his tone light. “I mean, if that’s what you’re standing out here worrying about.”

From the way Noah’s blush deepens, Luke thinks that he’s probably guessed right. 

“But personally, I’m hoping you’re a G,” Luke adds, “or maybe a B who has a thing for snarky blonds.”

This earns a startled laugh from Noah. “I guess you’ll just have to find out,” he says, and Luke watches as some of the tension melts away from his shoulders. 

This time when Luke opens the door, Noah follows him inside.

 

**two.**

Noah rubs his temples in slow circles and tries not to scream. The lead actress in his most recent film has been driving him crazy almost since day one, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take. She’s a good actress, sure, but he doesn’t know if “diva” is a big enough word to describe her antics. 

“Cut,” he says, taking off his headset. “Take five, everyone. I need to find some aspirin.”

The actress in question glares at his retreating back, but he can’t bring himself to care. He knew he shouldn’t have taken this project as soon as he’d found out who was starring – he’d heard all the horror stories about other films she’d been in. 

But then there was the script. And the script was why he absolutely _had_ to take the project. It was so beautiful, so emotionally truthful, the characters so rich and true. He knew he had to bring it to life. There was no way he could have said no.

He suddenly realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. There isn’t any aspirin back in his office. He took the last of it yesterday, to relieve similar stresses. With a sigh, he turns around and taps the nearest PA on the shoulder. “Can you get me some aspirin?” Noah asks when he turns around.

“Excuse me?” the man says.

“Aspirin,” Noah repeats, too exhausted to be polite. “I need some.”

A small smile begins to tug at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Sorry, but I’m fresh out.”

Something finally registers in the back of Noah’s mind and he feels like an idiot. “You’re not a PA, are you?” 

The man laughs softly, offers his hand. “I’m Luke. Snyder? I wrote the script.”

And just like that, Noah’s headache is gone.

 

**three.**

Luke wakes to the feeling of his best friend Kevin poking him in the ribs, snickering softly. He realizes that he’s fallen asleep in French class. Again.

“Dude, you were starting to drool,” Kevin whispers helpfully. 

Luke ignores him, keeps his head buried in his arms. He’s about to fall back asleep when he hears the classroom door open. He glances up sleepily, but feels his breath catch in his chest when he sees the guy who’s just walked in. Tall, brunet, kind of shy looking – his head is ducked low, eyes on the floor. _He’s gorgeous._

The guy hands the teacher a note and she gestures to the open seat on Luke’s left, motioning for him to go sit down. “This is Noah,” she says with a smile, “He’s just transferred from Branson, Missouri. Bienvenu, Noah!”

Noah blushes and ducks his head again. The class continues on, but Luke is mesmerized by the new boy sitting beside him. He hears a cough to his right and his face heats up, realizing that Kevin has caught him staring.

Luke turns towards him, and Kevin raises an eyebrow. Luke just shrugs, pretends to be immersed in the lecture. When the class finally lets out, he shoves his books into his backpack and moves to leave as quickly as possible, but stops when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He looks up and Noah is standing next to him, offering an uncertain half-smile.

“Could you tell me where the AP Lit. classroom is?” he asks.

Luke swallows thickly. “Sure,” he answers, pleased that his voice sounds normal. “That’s actually my next class. I can just walk with you.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, smiling fully this time – big and goofy and genuine.

And, okay, maybe Luke is a little bit in love.

 

**four.**

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but no one is going to want to read this crap. People stopped caring about Iraq three years ago,” Noah squints out into the distance, using his hand to try to shield himself from the midday sun. The metal of the jeep he’s leaning on burns against his back even through his fatigues. “No one gives a shit what we’re dealing with out here.”

The reporter – Luke, he thinks – scowls a bit and mutters something under his breath.

“What?” Noah asks. 

“I said we’re the same age,” Luke replies sharply. “I’m not a kid.”

A soft smile appears at the corner of Noah’s mouth. The more they talk, the more he’s actually starting to like Luke. You know, for a reporter.

“Trust me, _kid_ ,” he says, placing an emphasis just because he can, “out here, you get old fast.”

When Noah looks back up at Luke, he sees a sympathy in his eyes – not pity, but a true sorrow – that makes his heart shudder in a way that it hasn’t in a long time. He’s hit with the sudden urge to reach out and touch the wide-eyed, heartbreakingly sincere kid standing in front of him, to maybe even hug him or something, and the thought causes a soft blush to color his cheeks. 

He looks away, kicks at the dirt with the toe of his boot. Luke nods slightly and gives him a small smile, as if to say, _I know what you’re doing, and I’m not fooled by it_. Noah feels Luke’s smile down to his toes, and without meaning to, he finds himself smiling back. As their eyes lock, some strange emotion starts building in Noah’s chest, but he can’t place what it is.

He wonders if maybe it’s hope.

 

**five.**

He’s going to fail the class, Luke realizes dejectedly, as he pushes open the coffee house doors. He’d spent weeks on end perfecting that last paper, barely even pausing for sleep. He’d been convinced that this time, finally, he’d get a decent grade out of Professor Milligan. 

The bright shiny C- stares up at him almost mockingly from the cover page in his hand. At the beginning of the semester, he’d been so excited – he was going to study at Northwestern, the most prestigious school in the state – and now he can’t believe how fast he’s already screwing it up.

He reaches the front of the line and stares blankly up at the menu, unable to remember what he wants to order, or even why he’s in a coffee shop at all. The barista regards him with kind eyes, casting a knowing glance down at the paper in his hands. 

“Don’t take it personally,” the boy advises him. “I never did better than a C with Milligan. He’s a total prick.”

Luke glances up at him for the first time and smiles softly. “Thanks,” he says, though he’s not sure what he’s thanking him for.

The boy smiles back and turns to the machine in front of him. “Here, I’ll make you one of my special concoctions. It’s sure to make you feel better.” Then almost as an afterthought, he adds, “I’m Noah, by the way.”

“Luke,” he offers in return. When Noah finishes making his secret drink, he insists that it’s on the house, ignoring Luke’s protests. It’s not until Luke gets back to his dorm that he sees the phone number written on the side of the cup. 

As it turns out, he doesn’t even have to drink Noah’s special coffee for it to make him feel better.

 

**.one**

Noah carefully sorts each file one by one, double checking to make sure that he doesn’t make any mistakes. An unpaid internship that consists almost entirely of filing and collating and coffee runs may not be his dream job, but he still wants to do a good job. He really wishes that he’d made a better first impression too, but there’s not much that he can do about that now. 

Besides, the most important thing is that there are now several states separating him from his father. And after the summer is over, he’ll have the next four years to live his dream at Northwestern, without any interference from dear old dad. It’s beyond liberating to know that all of his decisions are his own from here on out. 

He smiles, thinking back to a conversation he’d had with one of his new coworkers earlier. They’d just talked nonsense – about old movies and things – but it felt comfortable, easy. He has a feeling that she might be a good friend this summer.

But it’s the other intern, Luke, who really sticks in Noah’s mind. He hadn’t seemed too impressed with Noah, not that Noah blames him, of course. But when he had walked into the room, Noah had been hit with this sudden feeling – like a tightening in his chest. If Luke had been less pissed off, Noah might have even asked him if they’d met before, though he’s sure that they haven’t. 

Noah shakes his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. But even now, long after Luke has left, that feeling of recognition, of _connection_ , still lingers in the air – like the smell of ozone after a storm. Noah finds himself smiling just thinking about the other boy.

Maybe they have met before, in another life.


End file.
